


There's No Heaven He Can Show Me

by aromanticjungkook (missbutterfly)



Series: Drabbles [9]
Category: Figure Skating RPF
Genre: Ambiguous Relationships, Angst, Gen, Introspection, Unreliable Narrator, lowkey self-hatred
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-16
Updated: 2019-06-16
Packaged: 2020-05-12 16:41:25
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,129
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19233031
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/missbutterfly/pseuds/aromanticjungkook
Summary: Yuzu learned a long time ago that, more often than not, he will feel unsafe.





	There's No Heaven He Can Show Me

**Author's Note:**

> im sad and needed this out of my system idk sahgsjkhal

Yuzu learned a long time ago that, more often than not, he will feel unsafe.

It’s not always that concrete, sometimes it’s just a lingering _lack_ of safety, just a gentle buzz in the back of his head that if he let something slip someone would see; would hear; would know. Sometimes Yuzu finds himself wondering why exactly that it’s him that all of this falls back on. Sometimes it twists inside him bitterly, and he’s left wondering why the entirety of Japan didn’t imprint itself on Shoma or Keiji.

But then he’ll win; that bitterness will soak up inside his organs when he sees all the banners and smiles, and he'll _feel_ the overwhelming warmth and support from the audience, their cheers ringing in his ears and rattling down his spine until they pool in his belly and fuel every stroke, step and jump. However, recently fans, he’s found, are kind of like stars; an ever present entity watching over him, through the good and the bad, but never something he could actively reach out for. Not anymore. They used to be a solid comfort, and often they still are, like looking at the sky and knowing that someone is out there staring back, but it’s become an abstract light and noise. They aren’t his friends. They aren’t someone he can rely on regardless of what they say to make him smile on social media. There are some truths he knows even the most devout fan wouldn't be able to stomach. 

The guilt gnaws at him every time he thinks about that.

Yuzu dances on a double-edged sword every time he steps outside of his apartment. He knows that. He knows it’s immeasurably better than if he was in Japan, despite how much his body aches for his home country - and the comfort it brings - every time he leaves. But somehow the air is thinner in Canada, it doesn’t feel like it sticks in his lungs in the same way, thick with expectation and-

And _fear_. 

It eats at him whenever he thinks about it. The fact that leaving the plane and touching his feet down onto Japanese tarmac fills him simultaneously with a settling joy and a matchstick strike of burning fear. It feels like someone is waiting to catch him out. Like they’re already planning their party for the second they know he’s tripped over something - a twig, his own words, his own actions, his own _skating_ \- and tumble dowwdowndown _down_. It’s not fair. Yuzu knows that. He knows that there are more people in Japan waiting for whenever that might happen to gently surround him and keep him safe.

But that doesn’t necessarily mean that he _is_ safe. 

There aren’t a lot of things that make him feel like safe; like someone is squeezing his hand, his arms, the back of his neck, their palms cupped around his heart to shelter it from every possible adversary. His mother is one. Her gentle presence is something he treasures, and something he knows that if he had to go without it, his shadow would feel empty, his back open to any and all attacks. There are others; Brian and Tracy and their carefully crafted school. Ghislain and his all-encompassing hugs. Nobu. Nanami. The rest of his family.

On most days, however, to Yuzu it feels like his mother is both the beginning and end of his list. 

Because it’s one thing to enjoy someone, their personality and their smile and the way they make him laugh, but it’s another thing to _trust_ someone. Yuzu knows that if he says anything to his mother, that’s where it stops. It will never leave her lips again; not to his father, or sister, or his grandparents or his management team. Not only that, Yuzu believes the fact that he will _always_ be able to trust her, which is a particular kind of special, one so wholly unique to his relationship with her. 

Yuzu has too much locked inside to be able to trust freely. There’s too much at stake.

Yuzu learned from a young age that it’s better, in the long run, to stretch a smile over his face and keep his words bland. If you reveal too much you’ll never be able to take it back, and anyone could use it for any purpose. Even footage of a fall is a vulnerability he can’t afford. The support of an entire country is far too fleeting, and Yuzu, and his mannerisms, and his floaty programs are all forever balanced on that precipice. But that makes him fight _harder_. Train _more_. Sacrifice _everything_. He has to stay _safe_. 

Sometime during his musing Yuzu’s pillow stops feeling as soft as it had been. It’s a nice pillow, firmer than the usual hotel room standard, but plush and marshmallowy at the same time. Ten minutes ago it had felt perfectly comfortable.

He spins his phone between his thumb and forefinger, occasionally throwing it in the air and catching it. The screen is still lit, Javi’s face staring out into his room. Javi has tried to ring him a few times tonight, likely being able to tell by his face as he left the banquet that something was sitting wrong in his brain. Ignoring the calls are never easy, but after years of this Yuzu has reached a state of gentle numbness to it. It’s almost like a routine. 

After the fourth time the vibrations cut out, Yuzu tosses his phone down onto the bed. Javi only ever calls four times. 

Javi is safe. Or he used to be. A long time ago. Yuzu himself fucked that up. 

Things like that are hard to unpick though. Like the fact that if Javi was here in front of him, every cell in Yuzu’s body would be crying out for Javi to hold him. A tiny part of Yuzu's brain shouts then that he doesn’t deserve that comfort, and Yuzu resists the urge to roll his eyes. 

Yuzu knows what he deserves. He knows he has a right to feel happy, warm, and safe. But those are luxuries he’s given up on his journey, if unintentionally, and now he has to deal with the consequences. Because that’s what they are; the fans, the press, Javi, Brian, Tracy and Ghislain all worrying, the way people scrutinise him, the way he has to push everything to the side and lie through his teeth. Everything is a consequence of what he wanted, what he did, what he’s fought for, and what he _is_ , like walking through the most beautiful forest and coming out the other side covered in bugs.

Maybe he’ll never be fully safe. And well, maybe, if that does happen, it’ll be on him. 

That’s the price.

**Author's Note:**

> WHOOPS


End file.
